I am a writer. I am not a mommy blogger, which is one reason I resisted blogs for so long. I have been a writer since I was a child, and I will be one until the day I can no longer conceive a coherent thought. The fact that I get paid to write is incidental; I write because I must.
Perhaps because I am a writer, I am committed to writing the truth. I don't whitewash anything. I am of the opinion that pretending (fronting, if you will) doesn't do anyone any good. Everyone struggles. Everyone has problems. It may be our joys that give breath to our lives, but it is our sufferings that truly unite us. No one feels alone in her joy. Too many of us, particularly women, feel alone in our suffering. As a Catholic, I will be the first to tell you that suffering is redemptive, and I truly believe that it is. As a woman who struggles with a melancholic personality and, yes, depression, I'll be the first to tell you that sometimes I just want to know that there are others out there who understand what I'm going through. Just so you know, I am so opposed to ending sentences with prepositions that it is taking everything I have in me not to change that sentence to "...others out there who understand that through which I am going." I'm told, though, that people don't talk like that. Maybe they should.
I'm on the cusp of 36. I always say that you're only as old as you feel; that makes me about 74. I have four children, 6-9. I have been married for 15 years. I've always loved the quote from the movie "Titanic": A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets. If you continue reading, you're sure to learn some of mine.
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